


Chance Would be a Fine Thing

by firefly124



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Community: bowtiesnblasters, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-17
Updated: 2012-01-17
Packaged: 2017-10-29 17:28:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/322345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firefly124/pseuds/firefly124
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor and River meet Jack whilst Christmas shopping for her parents, and they can't just leave him behind, can they? No, no they cannot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chance Would be a Fine Thing

**Author's Note:**

> Huge thanks to Laiksmarei for beta-reading and Saracen77 for Brit-picking. Written for Yvonne in the Mistletoe and Hallucinogens holiday fest at [bowtiesnblasters](http://bowtiesnblasters.dreamwidth.org) on Dreamwidth.

The Doctor wasn't sure why he let River talk him into these things. Oh, spending Christmas with Amy and Rory was all well and good, if a bit … domestic. But he didn't see why there had to be _shopping_ involved. After all, he could just bring them all someplace brilliant, and wasn't that a much better gift? Leaving aside the assorted crises that tended to pop up for him around Christmas, although those often turned out brilliantly too.

It wasn't as though he had anything against shopping in particular, he supposed. He loved a little shop, and markets could be brilliant. He was even fairly certain that the Dinaazirian Market that River had picked deserved its reputation as the best in the Second Great and Bountiful Human Empire. And she had, it had to be said, found some very unique gifts—not to mention that he got to trail behind like a pack animal but in the perfect position to watch her move effortlessly through the crowd in a pair of those jodhpurs she favored, so it certainly wasn't all bad. But at some point over the last hour, he'd started to develop a headache, which might have been from the smell of stewed pears wafting over from that stall over there, or possibly from the way this particular vendor was eating up River's flirting as if it weren't just a means to drive the ridiculous prices down. A very effective means, but really, enough was getting to be enough.

Seriously, though, it was beginning to make him wish he could take an aspirin, the way this headache was building. He hadn't felt anything like it since … well, not a time he particularly wanted to think back on just now. And the odds against the cause being _that_ were almost astronomical …

“Doctor?” a familiar voice called from a couple of stalls away.

… except for the fact that these things really always did seem to happen to him.

The Doctor turned so that he could just about keep an eye on River—not that she couldn't take care of herself, not to mention him, as she'd demonstrated on numerous occasions, but he didn't much fancy explaining to her parents that he'd lost her _again_ —while greeting his old friend.

“Jack!” he replied, plastering a grin across his face. “Imagine meeting you here!”

Next thing he knew, the Doctor had been caught up in a bone-crushing hug as both his—well, his and River's—and Jack's purchases spilled to the ground.

“How did you …? I mean, I'd heard ...” Jack stammered once he'd set him down and taken half a step back.

“Greatly exaggerated rumors and all that rot,” the Doctor said with a shrug. Then he leaned in conspiratorially. “Except, do you mind keeping your voice down?”

“Useful rumors, then.” Jack nodded. His eyes were still worried, but then, they often were. Otherwise, he looked well. Gone were the trappings of the twentieth and twenty-first centuries, particularly the coat reminiscent of the first time they'd met. In their place, Jack was wearing what passed for casual wear these days, given that silk was currently a less expensive fabric than nearly any other, in a deep purple shirt and tight fitting (of course) trousers.

“Well, well, well,” River said from just behind him. “Old friend?”

“Um, right.” The Doctor took a step to the side and half-turned so he could see them both. “River Song, meet Captain Jack Harkness. Jack, meet River.”

Jack accepted River's outstretched hand with a wink, turned it, and placed a kiss to her knuckles, saying, “It's a pleasure.”

“The pleasure's mutual, I assure you,” River practically purred, and the Doctor thought his head might actually explode—not that metaphorical thing people say all the time, but actually, literally explode—because these two meeting and flirting at each other was simultaneously something he'd managed to ignore as a possible harbinger of the end of the universe _and_ the beginning of some of his most _interesting_ dreams.

Jack straightened and turned to the Doctor, arching an eyebrow and mouthing, “Sweetie?”

“Right, well, gotta finish that shopping we were doing, right? Need just the right thing for your grandmother, and I don't think we've found it yet.” The Doctor clapped his hands together purposefully, which generally got people in the mood to do whatever he suggested next, if only he could work out just what that should be. At least his headache was subsiding, as it tended to do once he made a couple of adjustments to accommodate being around Jack. It was a bit of work, but well worth it.

“Yes, well, unlike with Mum and Dad, I can't exactly tell her I've picked up her gift in another century on another planet,” River sighed. “Never mind that I'm her granddaughter.”

Jack's eyebrow climbed higher.

“So, that we'll have to do back in England.”

Jack flinched, though a bit less than the Doctor would have expected. Well, he'd probably taken the slow path. Amazing what a few centuries could do for bad memories, though it never did seem to be quite enough. Still, it probably meant he wouldn't want to tag along. That was a good thing. Probably. Almost definitely. The Doctor was nearly certain that it was a good thing that Jack wouldn't want to join them. Wasn't he?

“Christmas back on Earth?” the Captain asked.

If the Doctor didn't know better, he'd think Jack actually sounded … wistful.

“Yes, it's going to be brilliant,” River effused. “I mean, it's not the Ice Follies, but Christmas in twenty-first century England is still pretty wonderful. Have you been?”

“A few times.” Jack smiled. “Any idea what's on for this one, Doctor? Better watch out for that hand.”

“Oh, were you there for the Sycorax?” River asked. “You know, I've never been able to get the whole story out of him. Well, not a believable version anyway. Duelling for the fate of the Earth? I mean, really.”

“Just there for the cleanup,” Jack replied with an uncomfortable shrug.

“Ah, yes. He rarely sticks around for that part,” River said with a knowing look.

“Don't I know it.” Another knowing look. They seemed to be exchanging quite a few of those, actually.

“Sorry, sorry, standing right here,” the Doctor said. “Here, standing, hearing everything you're saying, in case you hadn't noticed.”

“As if I could ever forget it.” River gave him a wink and then had the absolute audacity to give him a squeeze … well, at least Jack couldn't actually see what she'd done, but from the grin on his face, the bastard bloody well knew.

“So,” Jack turned his attention back to River, “you need a gift for your grandmother who doesn't _know_ she's your grandmother, and you'd like it to be the kind of special you find here without having to explain why it could never have come from Earth.”

“That about sums it up, yes.” River sighed. “I do hate … malls.”

Jack gave a theatrical shudder. “Can't blame you there. But I think I might be able to direct you to just the right sort of thing. There's an ancient Earth revivalist specialist right over here ...”

And the next thing the Doctor knew, Jack's hand was on River's elbow—and it had best not stray anywhere else, because immortal or not, he would _not_ survive—and they were being steered through the crowd. Well, River was, and the Doctor was hardly going to let the two of them go off _alone_. Especially when she called out, “Coming, Sweetie?” with a glance over her shoulder and _that_ smile.

The Doctor wasn't wondering any longer what this year's Christmas disaster was going to be. Clearly he was already living it.

~0~

The Doctor hadn't even bothered to ask why Jack still had his TARDIS key to hand. That was just Jack, now, wasn't it? As was the look of utter chagrin when the Doctor clicked his fingers just before Jack reached the door, and it swung open.

“Still at it, I see,” Jack recovered with a wink. “Switched out any guns for bananas lately?”

“Oh, did he do that to you too?” River asked, stepping to one side so that she could see them both. “And here I'd thought I was special.”

“You are,” the Doctor replied. “Believe me. One of a kind, you are. Both of you, actually.”

Now that it had been pointed out, though, he had to admit that had been rather unoriginal of him, but he'd only had so much to work with back in Berlin, and really, the look on her face had been priceless.

“Shall we go in?” He extended a hand to encourage them, though they hardly needed any encouragement, did they, as Jack made a sweeping bow that River answered with a mock curtsey that absolutely did _not_ work in jodhpurs but looked magnificent from the Doctor's viewpoint nonetheless.

“Love what you've done with the place,” Jack said with a low whistle once they were all inside. “Why the change?”

“It was time for something new,” the Doctor replied with a shrug.

“So you went for quasi-Victorian steampunk?” Jack asked with a grin. “Lived through it, Doc. Not much like this. Definite improvement, if you ask me.”

“Right, so when did this shopping trip turn into pick on the Doctor day?” That was, the Doctor decided, not perhaps the most dignified way to address the matter, though he was almost certain he'd stopped short of actually whinging.

Almost.

“Somewhere between when you tried on that bright orange fedora ...”

“Orange?”

“... and when we met the Captain,” River finished.

“But I liked the fedora,” the Doctor protested. “Fedoras are cool.”

“Not if they're orange,” Jack said drily.

“I knew I liked you,” River said with a wink.

“Speaking of which, what's with the bowtie?” Jack asked, a twinkle in his eye.

“Bowties are ...”

“... less easily slammed into car doors to keep him in place,” River cut in. “Or at least, that's Mother's theory.”

“I think I'd like to meet your mother,” Jack said with a grin.

River, Amy, and Jack all in the same place at once? That _would_ be the end of the universe, the Doctor decided. Though at least he and Rory could commiserate from the sidelines until all the stars simultaneously went supernova.

“Well, as we've finished shopping,” River pointed out as she strode up to the console, “we can do that right now.”

“You let her fly the TARDIS? By herself?” The look on Jack's face was something between jealousy—an emotion the Doctor had previously not thought him well acquainted with, though a lot could have changed over the last few centuries—and incredulity. Fair dues. River tended to have that effect on just about everyone, including and perhaps especially the Doctor.

“It's not so much a matter of _letting_ ,” the Doctor admitted.

“And here we are,” River said.

“Quiet landing,” Jack said with an expression that was now one-hundred-percent incredulous. “And without a full complement of pilots.”

“Boring landing,” the Doctor muttered.

“She doesn't like the brakes left on, sweetie,” River said indulgently.

Jack stroked a hand along the console edge and gave a small smile that the Doctor decided he did not like directed at the TARDIS any more than he'd have liked it directed at River.

“Right, well, your parents are going to be wondering what's taking us so long,” the Doctor said, ushering River towards the door. “I trust you gave us enough time to come back and wrap their gifts?”

“Of course, sweetie. But I wouldn't worry.” River gave one of her most devilish smiles. “They wouldn't be _wondering_ anything. At least not until they see we've brought company.”

Whimpering was undignified and decidedly un-cool, but somehow that didn't stop a suspiciously whimper-like sound from escaping the Doctor's throat as River took hold of both his hand and Jack's and led them towards the door. He half-hoped the Earth's somewhat annual alien invasion would be arriving on schedule.

~0~

It was a shame the Doctor wasn't fond of crepe paper crowns, because they were apparently the only hats River not only wouldn't shoot off his head but even consented to wear herself. The lot of them looked ridiculous—except Jack, and that was completely unfair but also completely Jack—and River hadn't threatened to draw a weapon once.

Of course, the speculative looks from Amy and outright _suspicious_ looks from Rory were another story entirely. The Pond women had, however, been on their best behavior, with only the barest minimum of flirting with their unexpected guest, and really, there was no avoiding that, because they were _them_ and Jack was _him_ , and really, that was who the Doctor was most impressed with, because outside of the odd wink and perhaps spending a tad longer than was strictly necessary kissing the back of Amy's hand not to mention shaking Rory's, _he'd_ been on such good behavior that the Doctor almost wondered if they hadn't picked up a shapeshifting impostor, but on further reflection, he probably should have expected the man to mellow after a few centuries.

Even for an internal monologue, that train of thought was leaving the Doctor a bit breathless. Or possibly he was choking in sympathy for his younger self who had, by Amy's recount, just had his necktie slammed into a car door and the alarm set. River enjoyed that story far too much for the Doctor's comfort, and he decided he'd best remind the TARDIS that he didn't _wear_ that sort of thing any more, lest she find some lying around and get … _ideas_. Then again, the two of them conspired against him often enough that perhaps he ought to just give it up.

There was also the problem of the sparkle lighting up _Jack's_ eyes at the tale. Not to mention the smouldering fury in Rory's.

“Right,” the Doctor's father-in-law-(ish) said, “time for pudding. You're helping, Doctor.”

“I am?” The Doctor couldn't see why it took two to fetch pudding, but then, even he had more sense to argue. “Right, of course I am. Back in a tick. Don't forget the bit about the apple, Amy. That really sells it.”

“No it doesn't,” Amy protested.

“He thinks it does,” River put in. “Bless.”

“I'd like to get back to the part where you blew through four psychiatrists, told them all about the Doctor, and somehow I never heard about it,” Jack added.

“Why should you have?” Amy asked before the kitchen door swung shut and the Doctor was deprived of hearing just how Jack was going to explain that.

“So,” Rory said, arms crossed in a posture that reminded the Doctor—as if he could ever forget—that this wasn't just River's father and Amy's husband but also the Lone Centurion, and not a man to be trifled with when it came to either of the women in his life.

“So,” the Doctor tried. “Christmas pudding?”

“Oh, don't give me that, Doctor,” Rory bit out. “What. Are. You. Up. To.”

“Me? Why's it me who's got to be up to something?” the Doctor protested.

“You've brought Jack bloody Harkness into our home,” Rory said. “A good enough bloke the first time I met him, but what was he doing in the forty-fifth century when you found him, and why is he at my dinner table shooting _looks_ at, well, everyone?”

“The first ...” The Doctor broke off. “Oh, I guess Torchwood would've been rather interested in the Pandorica, wouldn't they?”

“Not once we'd had a little chat.” That smug look definitely did not suit Rory at all. Well, except when it was useful. Which it wasn't just now.

Interesting. The Doctor wondered if Jack remembered that prior encounter. Most humans wouldn't remember anything from that timeline, but an impossible Fact like the Captain just might.

“I don't know why you assume it's me who's up to something,” the Doctor pouted. “It's _your_ daughter who insisted we bring him along like a puppy she'd found.”

Rory sighed, shoulders slumping in defeat. “She is definitely her mother's daughter.”

“Speaking of which ...” The Doctor waved a hand at the pudding. “Shouldn't we be getting back there? Or are _you_ up to something, leaving _your_ wife and _your_ daughter alone with 'Jack bloody Harkness'?”

Rory blanched and turned to scoop up the pudding. “Right. You grab the dishes.”

The Doctor wasn't sure whether he was relieved or not. He'd talked his way out of a grilling from his father-in-law-(ish), but it was entirely possible they were going to return to a completely different scene in the dining room when they'd left. He was torn between hoping they were done laughing at his younger self's expense and worrying what they might have moved on to in that case.

~0~

“Thank you for a lovely dinner,” Jack said as he bowed over Amy's hand again.

“You're very welcome. Stop by any time.”

The Doctor rolled his eyes.

“And thank you for the hospitality of your home,” Jack turned to clasp Rory's hand. “Much more comfortable surroundings this time.”

Well. That answered that question. Rory, to his credit, didn't so much as blink.

“You gonna tell me which of them it was?” Jack asked.

“Does it matter?” Rory challenged.

Jack looked between the two women. “No. Not really.”

And somehow, that answer was the one Rory had clearly needed, because then _he_ was extending an offer to visit any time too.

As for the Doctor himself, he must have looked a bit put out, because Rory rolled his eyes at him.

“Oh, as if you don't already drop in whenever and wherever you feel like it, with _or_ without our daughter!”

“He's got you there, sweetie,” River said, a devious light in her eyes that simultaneously scared the hell out of him and promised he was really, really going to enjoy writing this night up in his diary.

“Right. Well. Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night, and all that. Did I ever tell you …?”

“Many times, my love,” River murmured. “Though one of these days you're going to have to come clean about whether it really was Moore or Livingston.”

“I could if you like,” he replied, tapping a finger against her nose, “but where's the fun in that?”

“Are they always this way?” Jack stage-whispered.

“Only when there isn't anything for her to shoot at,” Amy stage-whispered back.

“Suppose we should be getting you back to your proper timeline, Captain,” River said. “Your old self is due back on this island any day now.”

“Pretty sure I'd remember if I'd made it to Leadworth before,” he replied. “Memory's a funny thing though.”

“It is that,” Rory replied. “Specially when you've got more of it than most humans can handle.”

At some point, the Doctor _really_ needed to find out what had happened between Rory and Jack or rather the Lone Centurion and Jack, but right now, he had to agree with River. It was time to move on, not least because clearly the cosmos was giving the Earth a break this Christmas. Calm before the storm, maybe? He'd ask River why she thought Jack—well, his old self—would be returning to Earth soon, but she'd probably just smirk and say something about spoilers. Why had he ever taught her that word?

~0~

“So,” the Doctor clapped his hands together and stalked towards the control console, “when are we dropping you off, Jack? Right back where we found you? Or were you heading somewhere else. Never mind giving you a lift. Well, mostly. Couple of places I'd rather not go, but I'm pretty sure you wouldn't want to go there either. The point is, Christmas is over and it's time we were going.”

“Oh, I wouldn't say it's over quite yet,” River said in that sultry voice that meant she was about to talk the Doctor into something that he was going to either regret or at least find impossible to believe. Again, back to the realm of nightmares and _interesting_ dreams. The wink she shot a suddenly somber-looking Jack only served to suggest which category this was likely to fall under. “I mean, it's still Christmas for a few hours yet in America, not to mention the part where the TARDIS _is_ a time machine. It can be Christmas for as long as we want.”

The Doctor shuddered. “Not crazy about dragging out Christmas too much. Did several Christmases in a row last year, which admittedly did all work out for the best, but it was rather draining. Got to see flying fish, though. And sharks. Well, shark.”

“Flying sharks definitely not as much fun as flying reindeer,” Jack agreed. “What century was that? Or planet? Because I'd just as soon give that one a miss.”

“Oh, it wasn't like that,” the Doctor waved a hand in dismissal. “The fish and the sharks were there year-round.”

“Of course,” Jack said with a grin. “That sounds much better.”

“The point is,” River said, “that there isn't necessarily any rush to drop the Captain off, is there?”

There were a number of reasons why there should almost certainly be a rush to drop Jack off, the Doctor thought. Clearly he'd had a bit too much of that pudding, which had had rather too much rum, because he couldn't think what any of those reasons might be. The fact that it took him so long to answer, however, obviously gave Jack some sort of an answer as his grin faltered.

“I really should get back. You can just drop me back at the market,” Jack said. “Busy life. Moving on.”

“Are you both very, very stupid?” River asked, hands on hips. “Again, I point out to you both that this is a _time_ machine. I could write it down so that you don't forget. Not to mention that I've spent much of the evening watching the two of you make eyes at each other, and if you think the pair of you are leaving me high and dry after all that, you've got another think coming.”

“River, we were _not_ making eyes at each other,” the Doctor said, in what he thought was a masterful composition of a full sentence. “I was simply keeping an eye on him so he wouldn't cross the line flirting with your parents.”

“I wasn't ...” Jack let his voice trail off. “All right, I was. A bit. But I didn't mean anything by it, Doctor. You should know that by now. Any more than Amy meant anything by it, or she certainly wouldn't have kept it up in front of her husband.”

The Doctor rolled his eyes. After one meal Jack thought he knew Amy that well?

Then again, Rory had seemed a bit more concerned about Jack's intentions towards the daughter than the wife, which, really, ought to be the Doctor's concern now, because it was just him and the two most outrageous flirts in the universe (not counting Amy) and at least one of them was trying to convince him that it should stay that way a bit longer.

“Trust me, Doctor,” River said, her voice dropping, “I know exactly what you look like 'keeping an eye' on someone as opposed to 'making eyes at them.'”

“How could you? When have you _ever_ …?”

“Spoilers!”

“I really, really hate that word. What,” he asked, in a tone of utter resignation, “did you have in mind?”

The slow smile that worked its way across River's face and through her eyes was enough to send Sontarans running for the next quadrant. It was enough to make Cybermen and Daleks high-tail it to the nearest black hole. It froze the Doctor where he stood.

Jack, on the other hand, looked like he couldn't decide whether to run for his admittedly-not-all-that-much-in-danger life or to jump up and down cheering.

The Doctor, and quite possibly the universe, was doomed.

The moment broke, and suddenly the Doctor had his arms full of a wriggling River who had somehow managed to drag Jack along, and was well on her way to snogging the Doctor senseless even as she was doing … something to draw _very_ interesting noises out of Jack. The Doctor couldn't be arsed to open his eyes for a peek, because never mind that he could perceive the whole of Time including multiple possible futures, kissing River deserved his absolutely focused attention, because her lips were quite possibly the softest in the universe while very much taking charge of the whole thing, and it ended far too quickly and for reasons he couldn't quite suss out until River spoke up and apparently wasn't even talking to him.

“Go on then,” she said. “Show us what you've got.”

The Doctor hadn't quite worked out what that was supposed to mean before he felt his face framed by two very familiar hands that had done this before, though not with this particular face, and ice-blue eyes peered into his, looking for something. The Doctor wasn't sure what Jack was seeing, but what he saw behind those eyes—much of it there because of the Doctor, directly or otherwise—made his hearts hurt.

“Why don't you hate me, Jack?” the Doctor asked softly.

“Never could,” Jack replied before closing the gap between them.

Firm lips pressed against his, and the Doctor couldn't help but respond, threading his fingers through Jack's hair and changing the angle just so. Surprisingly, Jack kept his lips almost—but only almost—chastely closed, waiting, it seemed for something. When they pulled back to look at one another again, there was more behind Jack's eyes than the Doctor had seen before, and he thought that what was there now was rather an improvement.

“You mean that's it?” River asked. “Come on, I know both of you can do better than that.”

The Doctor didn't even bother to ask how she could know such a thing, just pulled Jack close again, but this time he parted Jack's lips with his tongue, and after only a second's hesitation the captain responded. The Doctor mapped every centimeter of Jack's mouth with his tongue, taking careful note of which areas drew rewarding sounds, then found himself the focus of an equally careful exploration that involved at least one lingual maneuver that was illegal on three different planets, and for good reason too if what it was doing to the Doctor's higher reasoning centers was any indication.

“Now that's more like it,” River said.

What was? Oh, right. Wait, why did she want him snogging Jack? He supposed it didn't matter why, so long as it put that amazingly husky tone in her voice and darkened her eyes like that, and really, he was in no fit state to suss it out as River took each of their hands and half danced half pulled them across the control room and into a room that the Doctor could swear hadn't been just off that particular hallway before but most certainly was now, and very conveniently so given the extremely large bed that dominated the décor. He thought he heard River murmur something that might have been “thank you” but clearly wasn't directed at either himself or Jack.

“Now, then,” she said with a gleam in her eye that really ought to send both men running—though in which direction was entirely debatable, “I think the best thing right now would be if the two of you took off each other's clothes.”

“What about you?” Jack asked with a grin.

River sauntered over to a luxuriously upholstered chair, bum swaying deliciously until she turned and sat, chin propped delicately in one hand. “Oh, I'll just be over here enjoying the view.”

The Doctor swallowed hard, then turned to find Jack staring at him like a starved man at a banquet, not quite believing he'd been invited but unwilling to take his eyes off the feast before him lest it disappear. While he wasn't quite sure how one was supposed to go about putting on a show for one's wife(ish) by undressing another man, he did think he could at least manage to undo a few fastenings on Jack's purple silk shirt that looked very much like buttons but weren't. For a moment, he stood there at a loss, acutely aware of River watching, no doubt impatiently, whilst he held the two sides of Jack's now-open shirt. Then, with a shrug, he fisted both handfuls of fabric tightly and pulled Jack in for another kiss.

Like a rapid-fire chain reaction this somehow led to them both being very naked whilst River made encouraging noises that competed with the ones coming from deep within Jack's throat, and really, the Doctor couldn't help wondering why he and Jack hadn't done this a very long time ago and why this was something River wanted, except then Jack found that one spot just below his ribs that ought to be ticklish but oh so very much wasn't.

“Not going to join in?” Jack asked when he finally detached his mouth from the Doctor's body.

“Whatever gave you that idea?” she asked, rising from the chair with a casual grace that contrasted beautifully with the color in her cheeks and lips. “Savoring the appetizer doesn't mean sitting out the main course, after all.”

“Main course?” the Doctor asked in a voice that was definitely not a squeak, though it must be said that it did have certain squeak-like properties.

“Yes, sweetie.” River brushed her lips maddeningly lightly across his. “I mean, we've already had dinner, true. But there's always room for a bit of a sandwich, isn't there?”

“I do like the sound of that,” Jack said. “Question is, what kind of sandwich are you in the mood for today, River?”

“That is, indeed, the question.” She trailed a finger along the Doctor's chest, then Jack's.

The Doctor thought he rather thought he ought to be ragingly jealous as she slid her hand up to cup Jack's cheek, drawing him in for a hungry kiss. Instead, he thought he'd never seen anything quite so beautiful, save for the fact that River was still wearing far too many clothes. Almost of their own accord, his hands began working at her blouse and soon she was just as naked as he and Jack, and the Doctor could hardly do otherwise than to press himself against her, his erection cradled perfectly in the cleft of her buttocks as he buried his face in her hair and inhaled the remarkable scent of her.

“River sandwich, then?” Jack asked, a laugh in his voice.

“Oh, I think not,” she said, a bit breathless. “Can't you tell by how flustered he is?”

“He's always flustered,” Jack muttered.

“Not this flustered.” She turned and captured the Doctor's lips with hers until he was drowning in her. Then she pulled back and said, bizarrely, “Besides, he introduced us, back at the market, and there are rules about these things.”

“Rules?” the Doctor asked.

“Not a big fan of rules,” Jack said.

“Rule number eighty-five,” she murmured.

“But there aren't eighty-five rules?” In fact, she'd always stopped him short of proclaiming rule seventy, which was a personal favorite but for some reason made her laugh too much to actually hear him out.

“And that's why tonight we're having a Doctor sandwich,” she replied with a soft laugh.

A Doctor … what? No, she couldn't possibly mean … except now she was turning in his arms and guiding him backwards towards the bed as Jack pulled down the duvet and fished about in the bedside table for something, and suddenly they were all three tangled together, this time with the Doctor firmly between the other two.

She really did mean. She actually wanted … well, he could see why she might want Jack in their bed. Seriously, not that he ever had, but he'd certainly thought about it. Well, not so much thought as …

“Stop thinking so much, sweetie,” she whispered.

“I can't exactly help it,” he said, even as Jack did something to that spot right at the back of his neck that sent what felt like quantum artron sparks along his spine.

“Then we're doing something wrong,” Jack murmured before taking the Doctor's earlobe between his teeth and pulling.

“Nope, nothing wrong. Can't quite make ...” And then he couldn't talk anymore, because River had his tongue otherwise occupied, and Jack had moved on to the spot where his neck and shoulder joined, and finally, thinking might not have exactly stopped, but it definitely took a back seat.

That was a good thing, because there was far too much sensory information coming at him to be bothered trying to sort it out now. The softness of River's breasts, the sweet taste of her mouth, and the deliciously thick tangles of her hair contrasting with the firmness of Jack's chest … and other things … not to mention the sharpness of his teeth nipping their way down along his spine until …

“Jack, what are you …?”

“Shh, sweetie,” River said. “You're going to love this. And so am I.”

And then Jack's tongue was probing him more intimately than the Doctor could recall anyone doing in hundreds of years and possibly several regenerations, and it felt absolutely amazing. River had slid a hand down along his belly and was now stroking him teasingly with just her fingertips. They were going to drive him mad, the pair of them, and then as if to prove him right, Jack replaced his tongue with a surprisingly slick finger, gently but steadily stroking him and then pressing inward.

“That's it, my love,” River said softly. “Just let go.”

Except he couldn't quite let go, because he had to tell Jack … well, the man might be an expert in any number of anatomical variations, but he couldn't know that Time Lords had …

“Right there, isn't it?” Jack breathed into his ear as small nebulas exploded through the Doctor's eyes, and when had the man moved to where he could do that again? “And the other one would be just about ...”

Oh yes. He knew. And the Doctor didn't even care how, so long as he kept pressing against both those lovely spots that were making him feel hard as T'laxian steel.

“God, you're glorious like this,” River breathed, her grip on him tightening to the point that it seemed things might be over entirely too soon, but she seemed to realize that and backed off.

That wasn't actually backing off, though, was it? Because she was … and then Jack was … and how did they all _fit_ like this? But it was amazing, and if the Doctor couldn't quite find the right way to move with them, they clearly knew what they were doing, very much so to go by the gasps of “Right there, sweetie,” and “Damn, so tight,” and “Ghlngrlmnrn.” And then River was pulsing around him and Jack was pouring into him, and absolutely every cell in the Doctor's body exploded in sheer bliss, and things weren't so much over as gentling to a series of kisses and caresses and not-quite-detangling so much as rearranging so that no one—namely River—was getting squashed.

Once even their gentle touches and kisses had stilled—and it really was amazing just how beautiful those two were when they kissed—and River and Jack had interlaced their fingers across the Doctor's chest as he managed to snake an arm around each of them, he finally asked, “So what's rule eighty-five, then?”

“Whichever of us hasn't done this before goes in the middle,” River said with a sad smile.

“So we've … we do this?”

“Every once in awhile,” Jack said with none of the smugness the Doctor would've expected. “When we all manage to be in the same place at the same time.”

“And just how often is that?” The Doctor rather thought this was something to look forward to and couldn't understand why the other two, who had been so amazingly enthusiastic, now seemed like, well, Christmas was over and they were faced with the clearing up.

“Three times, now,” River whispered.

Three … oh! The Doctor tugged her closer and kissed her thoroughly but just quickly enough that he could do the same for Jack before he started feeling left out.

“Silly humans,” he said. “It's not as though we do these things completely backwards, though, is it? This just means we need rule eighty-six.”

“And what would that be?” Jack asked.

“If it's nobody's first time like this, we flip a three-sided Qlrian coin to see who's the middle.”

“Mmm, I like the sound of that,” River said, snuggling in closer to him.

Clearly, so did Jack, the Doctor noticed, and he wondered if they might not just need that coin a bit sooner than he'd thought.

“One other question,” the Doctor said. “Back at the market … I get that you were both pretending for my benefit, but Jack, you looked truly surprised by at least a couple of things.”

“What, you don't think I'm just that good?”

A nudge to the hip had the Doctor almost ready to abandon this conversation in favor of other things, but the key word was _almost_. He knew the best way to get the Captain to say something, however, was just to leave him the space to do it, and so he didn't say a word.

“You'd never told me anything about how the two of you got together,” Jack admitted. “And I still don't entirely understand River's family, though I have to say the story at dinner was very educational.”

There was a look in Jack's eyes that the Doctor could only call vulnerable, and suddenly quite a few remarks he'd made fell into place. Silly, silly human. Well, they could certainly play catch-up now, because if there was one thing the Doctor was good at, it was telling bedtime stories.

“Right. So not long after the last time I saw you, Jack … well, on my timeline. That time at the bar?”

“What time at the bar?” Jack asked, his brow furrowed.

“Spoilers, sweetie,” River whispered.

“Really?” Now it was the Doctor's turn to be surprised. He could've sworn that had been a much younger Jack, but then, that was before the universe rebooted, and who knew what else had changed? “Anyway, it all started when I landed in her mother's garden when she was seven years old.”

“Didn't I hear this part already?”

“Are you going to let me tell the story or not?”

“You might as well let him, you know what he's like.”

“What's that supposed to …?” Nope, the Doctor couldn't pull off righteous indignation at the moment. He did love telling a good story, after all, and this was one of the best. “Anyway, as I was saying ...”

_Fin._


End file.
